Don't
by Cali-is-my-home
Summary: Clarke Griffin seals a deal with her partner in crime, John Murphy. The plan seemed easy. Plus, she would finally learn the truth about her father's mysterious death. But she'd soon find herself falling in love with the man she's supposed to ruin. *Bellarke*


Summary: Clarke Griffin seals a deal with her partner in crime, John Murphy. The plan seemed easy. Plus, she would finally learn the truth of her father's mysterious death. But she'd soon find herself falling with love with the man she's supposed to ruin.

Rated T because it's Bellarke.

*Most locations are fake, just to let you know*

Disclaimer: I do not own the 100

* * *

Don't

Chapter One

"What is it now, Murphy?" Clarke can't help but let out a small sigh as John Murphy enters her office. The man with greasy hair gives her a crooked smile. He closes the mahogany door behind him and takes a seat on the other side of Clarke's desk.

"Well, Ms. Griffin, I need you to do something for me." He pauses as he grins. An evil glint in his eyes.

Clarke sets her pen down. She sets both of her hands on top of the dark hardwood desk. She forces herself to look him in the eye to show him she's not afraid nor nervous. But below the desk, Clarke's leg shakes with nervous anticipation. Murphy is her partner in crime. Not a friend. Not an enemy. Just a partner. But he was intimidating and unpredictable. "What do you want me to do?"

He reaches for the pocket of his coat and grabs a small scrap of paper. "I want you to work as a maid for a man named Bellamy Blake. I need you to learn his every move. His weakness and strengths. I need you to make Bellamy Blake fall in love with you. And once his guard is down, give me a call. I'll help you with the rest." _The dirty work_, Clarke inwardly groans. It was common for Murphy and Clarke to get their hands dirty. Especially if it involved money (even though Clarke has money, she finds herself hungry for more). Luckily, they've never been caught. With Clarke's wits and Murphy's skills, they've managed to hide all evidence or clues that lead to them. (Plus, Clarke's mom is a close friend of Thelonious Jaha. The mayor of Sacramento. That helps a lot.)

"And I'd do this because?" Clarke arches a brow.

"Because I know who killed your father." He smiles as his eyes gleam. He knows how important her father was. He's still important to her.

Clarke's eyes widen. She grips the edge of the table as her heart clenches. "What?! His death was ruled accidental. He– I..."

"Don't worry. At least for now. I'll tell you the real story after you complete this... Mission." He places the scrap before her. "That has his address. You'll need a luggage. He needs a maid to clean, cook and keep his sister and only child some company. Wife is out of the picture. And no need to worry about the job. I called him yesterday. You're hired. You start Monday." He smirks as he gets up from the black leather arm chair and leaves the small office before Clarke can even ask him anything. She growls in frustration as she slams her hand down onto the table. How can he leave her with little information about this mission?

_Freaking Murphy... I swear, one day I'll... Calm down, Clarke. Count to five. One, two, three, four, five. Try to keep your temper under control. Especially during this mission._

Clarke falls back against her chair as she shakily exhales. She looks around the box shaped room. Family portraits and medals hang on grey walls of what was once her father's room. White curtains hang still, only allowing Clarke to see half of her large backyard. She finds herself staring at a portrait of her parent's wedding. Her father was murdered? How? Who'd want to kill Jake Griffin? Unanswered questions invade Clarke's mind. Was it Kane? Jaha? How could Clarke not notice that her father was murdered? How does Murphy know?

She rubs her temples as she looks at the scrap of paper. Her nose wrinkles. A maid? Cleaning isn't really Clarke's specialty. The only room that is considered clean is the office. But that's only because it was her father's safe haven. Clarke shakes the thought from her head, not wanting to dwell on her father. She can cook. And she can try to be nice around this man's sister and child. Yeah. She can do this. It'll be quick and easy. Once it's over, she can finally learn the truth about her father's death.

She grabs the scrap of paper and places it in her drawer before getting up to leave.

* * *

It's Sunday. Clarke takes a quick shower, eats, throws her hair into a loose ponytail and throws on some black leggings and a grey tunic. She prepares her luggage which takes about an hour. Clarke goes over her luggage again, just to make sure she doesn't leave anything she might need behind.

_Jeans. Check. Shirts and blouses. Check. Pajamas. Check. Shoes and heels. Check. Bras, panties and socks. Check. Phone. Check_. The list goes on and on. Finally, she's ready to go.

She drags her luggage to the hallway that leads to the front door. She digs around in her purse to find the scrap of paper. She quickly types it into her phone while slipping on some sandals. She opens the door, shuts and locks it while making a mental note to herself to remember to lock the gate as well.

* * *

She arrives at her destination in mere minutes. This Bellamy Blake doesn't live too far from Clarke's house. He lives in a quiet neighborhood filled with annoying, snobby rich people who live in large estates. Predictable.

She parks her old Camry in front of the large house, just behind an old, red pickup truck. Clarke gazes to what seems to be a light brown two story house. Beautiful plants and statues cover most of the green front yard. She decides not to bring her luggage just in case this isn't the right house. She walks up to large door and rings the doorbell. She waits for a minute or two, and is about to leave before a young brunette swings the door open. She's beautiful with hazel eyes and sun kissed skin. She's wearing loose tank top and skinny frayed jeans. Clarke can't help but envy the girl.

She smiles. "Hi?"

Clarke fumbles a bit before stretching her arm outward to shake hands (a habit of hers). "Hi, I'm Clarke Griffin." She pauses as the brunette shakes her hand. "Is there a Bellamy Blake?"

"Uh, yes. Would you like to speak to him?"

"Well, I'm the new maid. I– I called a while back."

The brunette's eyes widen as she gasps. "Oh, your the Clarke my brother was talking about! It's a pleasure to meet you. I, umm... Come in." She opens the door a bit more as she stretches her arm toward the inside of the house. "Do have any bags that I can help you with?"

Clarke shakes her head. "Oh, no. It's fine. Lemme get 'em." The girl nods as she waits by the door. Clarke races toward her Camry and opens the trunk. She grabs her luggage and hauls it to the porch.

The girl beams. "I'm Octavia Blake. Welcome to your new home!"

* * *

**Hi! I hope you guys like it... It my first The 100 fic. Sorry if it's short. I just wanted to try it out I guess. And sorry if there's a fic out there like this. This idea popped into my head while I was STAAR testing and I couldn't stop thinking about it.**

**Please leave your thoughts and constructive criticism is welcomed. :) (no hate, or mean comments though...)**

**Do you want me to continue?**


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